


The Storm In His Wake

by daisyqiaolianmay (skinman)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, If Rosalind thought Phil was piloting S.H.I.E.L.D solo, Philinda - Freeform, Rosalind meets/finds out about May, This is a 'im not getting what i want from season 3 so im gonna fic it instead' fic, and that awkward moment when a guy hangs up on you., bus-family feels, involving hidden microphones, seedy bars, she's in for a shock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinman/pseuds/daisyqiaolianmay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even good men, and Rosalind truly believed Phil to be a good man, could have terrible secrets… and S.H.I.E.L.D, they’d kept enough terrible secrets from the world already. She just wasn't expecting this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Storm In His Wake

**Author's Note:**

> (This is basically all my season 3 wishes condensed haphazardly into one short fic and it turned out well considering I wrote this in the course of about an hour while stressing over leaked spoilers for Chaos Theory.)

Surveillance. Just a little. Just a precaution after the Lash incident. She wanted to trust Coulson, she really did, but the man was trained to keep secrets. She knew that he’d probably already guessed that she’d put a couple of feelers out on him anyway. And, despite their little chats, she wasn’t blind to the possibility that he might well have put tabs on her too. Even good men, and Rosalind truly believed Phil to be a good man, could have terrible secrets… and S.H.I.E.L.D, they’d kept enough terrible secrets from the world already.

She still didn’t know how Coulson had worked out that Lash was Dr Andrew Garner, a consultant psychiatrist for S.H.I.E.L.D no less, a man among his own; A wolf in the herd. His signature at the foot of every inhuman psych report she’d been sent… what irony. Strangely, Phil Coulson’s inability to spot a Judas only made her like him more. The man wanted to trust, even after everything, she admired that, even if it was debatably idiotic in nature.

Though Coulson could hardly be called an idiot. She’d read the files. The man had been Fury’s human credential; the face of consideration in a world of dark suits and red tape. Phil Coulson knew the power of a few careful, sensitive words. Always the welcome wagon, level-headed, for the most part, always keen to utilise any means besides violence first. Not a trait most spies tended to possess. But calm words didn’t win battles, and this was wartime. Why had Fury left Coulson the crown? Now she knew him, she couldn’t see any sign of brainwashing, that Fury had indoctrinated Phil with his ideals.

“Ma’am, unidentified female sighted interacting with Director Coulson at 2:20, exactly 2 minutes ago.” Agent Aja, spun round in her chair, headset on, to inform her supervisor.

The ATCU base’s control centre wasn’t any busier than usual today. S.H.I.E.L.D had been painfully quiet for a good few days, there hadn’t been any inhuman deaths since Lash’s exposure, and, honestly, though she’d deny it if she was asked, Rosalind was almost bored. She jumped at the news of a development.

“Throw it up on the big screen.” She ordered, stepping out from behind her own control point to walk down the stairs a little way, desks full of her subordinates spread out on levels either side of her facing said screen. Some looked up from their assignments to consider the candid photo.

The woman was shorter than Phil, tight, black pants and a loose, black t-shirt. Asian in ethnicity, her hair a brunette, glowing, a slight halo of auburn in the sunlight. Her eyes were dark, downcast as the Director herded her into a small, city bar, situated on a street corner.

This whole situation was strange. She didn’t know the woman to be one of Coulson’s, unless he’d specifically been keeping her out the way. Why bring her to seedy Washington bar? An exchange going down? Rosalind didn’t have many ideas.

“Do we have an Agent on the ground?” She inquired.

Agent Aja nodded sharply.

Rosalind made the call, “Send them in, mic and camera if possible. No going dark I want at least audio at all times.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Aja turned back to her computer to convey the order.

Rosalind Price scrunched up her nose, “Oh, and tell them to loosen up, order something, and actually drink it. There is nothing more obvious than a stiff-backed man in a suit sat a table with an untouched glass in front of them.”

“Should I put the wire on speaker?”

Rosalind folded her arms, waiting, “Please.” She nonchalantly patted the shoulder of an Agent to her left impatiently, “And run facial recognition on that profile, prioritise S.H.I.E.L.D files, I want to know who she is ASAP.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Agent Brooker abandoned his current assignment and pulled up the photograph.

“Ma’am, we’ve got audio secured, no visual as of yet.” Aja announced.

 _‘You always bring me to the nicest places.’_ A slightly unimpressed, slightly teasing tone Rosalind didn’t recognise was the first to reach the command centre.

 _‘They tore down Eddie’s, this is closest I could find.’_ This time the voice was familiar. Phil’s. In his words was the same charm he’d used on her, but even through the fine crackle of the mic she could make out a softness to it that was foreign.

_‘Phil… Eddie’s was a dive.’_

_‘We used to go there all the time.'_ He argued.

 _‘Yeah. We were 23 and the alcohol was cheap.’_ There was an audible smile in the way the woman spoke.

‘Old friends.’ That was what Rosalind had so far, but that wasn’t the part that was interesting her. There was an element of the 'something more'. A something Rosalind couldn't quite place her finger on. A type of aged, accepted pining that had grown ancient within the patterns of their speech. Rosalind could spot as 'what if?' when she saw one. Even with only the twists and turns of their language to go on it didn't take more than a second of two for her to realise this woman was Phil Coulson's 'what if?'. As if his guiding hand hovering over the base of her spine in the candid wasn't enough of an indicator that there was something beyond business at play here.

 _‘You could drink me under the table.’_ Phil really did laugh this time, just a little, not a sound Rosalind had ever heard before.

The woman huffed, _‘Still could.’_

There was a lengthy pause and for a second Rosalind thought they’d lost the feed.

 _‘So, you thinking about sticking around this time?’_ She had to listen carefully, Coulson’s words were quieter than before.

 _‘…Phil.’_ There was a warning in the woman’s tone.

 _‘Mel, you know I didn’t mean it like that.’_ Phil sighed.

Rosalind prodded Agent Brooker, “Did you get that?” Prompting him to add the name to his search.

 _‘Then why did you say it.’_ The woman’s voice was taught. With emotion? Anger? Hurt? Rosalind couldn’t tell.

After a moment Coulson answered, _‘Daisy asked.’_

Rosalind Price tilted her head. So this woman knew Daisy Johnson too… then it was a pretty good bet she was a S.H.I.E.L.D agent… maybe even an inhuman, though that was less likely.

_‘She’s been avoiding me.’_

_‘I noticed that. Thought you needed some time out from it.’_

There was a sadness to the exchange.

_‘Time out was the problem Phil. I hurt her, I walked away, from her, from you, and I can deal with that reality. I’m staying.’_

_‘Good… that’s good. I…’_ There was shake, a stutter there, _“I don’t blame you, you know.’_

_‘She does.’_

_‘She’s dealing with it in her own way. She’s not avoiding you out of spite, she just doesn’t know what to say. This isn’t the homecoming she wanted… She missed you.’_

The woman huffed out a deprecating, little laugh, _‘Sure.’_

_‘I know you don’t believe me, but trust me, she smiled a lot less, punched things a lot more.’_

_‘She’s sure grown up a lot.’_ The woman sighed.

 _‘Remember when she was still all braids and pigtails, biting at our heels, getting into trouble.’_ The smile was back in Phil’s voice.

Rosalind frowned. The way they were speaking about the Agent was curious, not like superiors, or friends, more like parents. Like a unit. A family even.

_‘If by ‘trouble’ you mean restricted files she wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near? Then yes. When I left she was still making a face every time she pulled a trigger, seems like she got past that eventually.’_

_‘She still needs you.’_ Phil’s voice was low.

_‘She can take care of herself out there, she’s an Agent in her own right now. She could probably take me down.’_

_‘That’s not what I meant.’_ There was another pause, _‘You know I think Fitz missed you too, asked after you a few times.’_

_‘…How is he?’_

_‘Single-minded, concentrating on Jemma’s rehabilitation.’_

_‘I saw her. She seemed good, considering.’_

The names Fitz and Jemma meant little to Rosalind, but to Phil and his companion they were apparently increasingly important.

_‘I think she’s supressing it a bit. She still avoids talking about her experience, and now with Andrew…’_

Rosalind perked up at the mention of Dr Garner, primarily she was keen to learn where S.H.E.I.L.D was keeping him. While S.H.I.E.L.D’s Director had thought to inform her that Lash had been captured, he still, as of yet, hadn’t told her where he was being contained or how they’d managed to subdue him.

 _‘I need to find a new psychiatrist.’_ Coulson’s distress over the matter was apparent.

_‘Phil, I’m sorry I know-‘_

Phil interrupted, _‘I said I don’t blame you, no one does. You did amazing.’_

_‘I could have pressed more when he left, found out before people got hurt. I put Daisy in danger, she was in the base with him. He could of-’_

_‘There’s no way you could have guessed. You know that, Daisy knows that. She’s angry at herself too, an inhuman murderer right there under her nose, she’s beating herself up over it. She’s always too hard on herself… kind of like you.’_

“Ma’am, we’ve got visual.” Agent Aja told her, flicking the picture up onto the big screen. It was a low resolution camera hidden in a fake hearing aid, the picture was muffled, but it was better than nothing.

Phil was sat opposite the woman at a small, bare, wooden table, facing the camera. There was no one else in the frame, the bar sparsely populated. A couple of empty booths haunted the space behind Coulson. He was leant forward in his seat, wearing his usual dark suit. The fingers of his good hand reached out a laid themselves down over the back of the woman’s smaller one, a simple, comforting gesture.

There was the barest hint of a vulnerability there when the woman spoke again, _‘I need to make it right.’_

 _‘Then just… stay.’_ Phil shrugged, _‘After all, I’m seriously down on field ready Agents. Powers or no I’m not keen on sending Daisy out there with just Mack for back-up. He’s a fair fighter but…’_

_‘You need a specialist.’_

_‘I was going to say ‘he’s the engineer’, but yeah.’_ Phil kept his hand on hers, reaching further to grip harder. She reciprocated, and suddenly Rosalind felt as though she were witnessing something too private, and that she should look away. It wasn’t simply comforting anymore, it was a little desperate.

 _‘Move my stuff?’_ The woman asked, and Rosalind could see the muscles in her back relaxing as she spoke.

Phil shook his head, lips pursed, _‘Not a thing. Though, Daisy’s been wearing your blue sweater, and Hunter got into your tea. He was trying to find the pot noodles… or something.’_

She sighed, defeated, _‘That all?’_

_‘And I think Bobbi stole your towels.’_

She groaned under her breath. It almost made Rosalind smile.

 _‘So, are you actually going to let me get you a drink?’_ Phil gestured awkwardly toward the bar.

 _‘Maybe somewhere else.’_ The woman suggested.

 _‘Seriously, you dislike this place that bad?’_ Phil pushed out his chair so he could stand.

In a flash the woman was up, heading in the direction of the ATCU agent. Before they or Rosalind could even react to the crisis the S.H.I.E.L.D specialist was pressing the agent’s head into the table.

 _‘Something like that,’_ was the last thing Rosalind Price heard before the feed went dead with a painful _‘crack’_.

“What happened?” She jolted, reacting instinctively. Coulson probably already knew the Agent was ATCU by this point, “Send in any and all other Agents on the ground! Recover our own, but do not engage S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Ma’am, we’ve got a match; Agent Melinda May, level 7 specialist. Graduated the Academy with honors. Was assigned to a Strike Force working out of the Triskelion before retiring from field work.” Brookers called out suddenly.

Rosalind rushed to his side, leaning over his shoulder as her other agents rushed and scuttled around trying to right the collapsed mission, “Links to Coulson?”

“Class of 1986, just like the Director. They’re recorded to have completed 914 missions together, at least.”

“Dangerous?” Price chewed her cheek anxiously.

Brooker’s eyes were wide as he slowly turned to regard her, “Ma’am… she’s like... the original Agent Romanoff.”

It wasn’t till now she was beginning to realise that the welcoming sun came with a storm in it’s wake.

 

* * *

 

She was a legend… or so Rosalind Price had been informed. Though, a legend among government agents was classified information to the masses, she supposed. Rosalind had never heard of ‘Melinda May’, but Lian May was another story. Rosalind had heard of her many times, back when she’d still been living as Sarah Russel. Name drops by the water cooler, that sort of thing. Mentions of big meetings, big missions, just gossip really, and then of retirement plans, how the CIA wouldn’t be the same without her ; conversations Agent Russel had barely paid attention to.

“My agent’s in the infirmary now, he’s being treated for a zygomatic fracture and sprained wrist, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D.” There was no emotion in Rosalind’s speech, just hard truth with an expectant edge, like she wanted an apology. Her gaze was even more intimidating blown up past life-size on the wall in Coulson’s office.

“I’m sorry?” Phil tried, unconvincingly, “In defence of my Agent, we had no way of knowing he wasn’t Hydra, after all, he was tailing us.”

Rosalind scoffed at his passive aggressive avoidance, “No need to play coy, Phil, we both know her name so we might as well use it.”

“What is this actually about? …Somehow I’m finding it hard to believe you only rang me up for an apology.” Phil perched on the front of his desk, arms folded.

Rosalind weighed up her options. She could lie, but Coulson was smart, he probably already knew the answer to his own question. “I want to speak to her.”

“No.” He kept on smiling slightly, conveying his ease. He wasn’t going to budge.

“Look…” Rosalind huffed, grinding her teeth impatiently, “Agent May was married to my suspect, a suspect you are currently refusing access to, the least you can do is let me interview her.”

“May said she doesn’t want to talk, so she’s not talking.”

“Is that who she is?” Rosalind wondered aloud, “The power behind the throne. The director’s director.” She observed his face analytically.

His refusal to reply told her everything she needed to know.

“Sharing is caring, Phil.” She continued to prod and poke, playing with him.

“I did share. We gave you Lash. Don’t you owe us now?” Coulson stood up straight, advancing on the screen.

“Not how it works.” Rosalind shook her head. “You gave me a name and a DNA test, that’s all. I don’t know if you’re lying about his identity, I don’t know where you’re keeping him, I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

That last accusation got under Coulson’s skin. His lips thinned and his nostrils flared. He wouldn’t order Andrew’s death, the death of friend, even a murderer. They still didn’t truly understand the nature of his power, what had caused his subconscious to fixate on eradicating Inhumans. Phil would exhaust every other option before resorting to murder. Rosalind knew that, she was just trying to get a reaction.

“She won’t give you anything. Not if she doesn’t want to.” Coulson was telling the truth. S.H.I.E.L.D field operatives were trained to be able to withhold sensitive information under torture, under extreme, excruciating amounts of pain; Phil doubted Rosalind’s hard stares were going to phase May.

“Then make sure she wants to.” The threat was spoken with a calm reserve to disguise it. “Are you forgetting I heard all of your little chat earlier? I know respect goes both ways with you two. I’m sure you could find a way to convince her.

“Maybe… but I don’t want to.” Phil inhaled deeply, fighting the innate impulse to punch a wall. He felt Rosalind’s glare burn into him as he threw his own downward.

“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do. I’ll call you back.” He concluded shortly.

“Coulson-”

The screen went to default as Phil ended the call, jamming his finger down with more force than was truly necessary.

 

* * *

 

“So, how’d it go?”

Phil startled. He’d been sat at his desk, elbows proper up against the wood, head in his hands.

Melinda May was stood opposite him, hands folded, feet shoulder-width apart. Her dark eyes flickered over his bent form, deep with an anxiety she was keeping well hidden.

“She wanted to talk to you.” Phil sighed, raising his gaze.

May tilted her head, a dent appearing between her brows, “About Andrew.”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

Coulson shook his head, running a hand through his short hair, “I didn’t. I hung up.”

The look May gave him was heavy with a hundred different questions, but she only asked one, “Why?”

“Because while working with the ATCU is important… you, us, this team, S.H.I.E.L.D, that’s my priority.” Phil stood slowly, barely finding the ability to meet her eyes as he spoke, “I’m not going to do anything to jeopardise that, and that includes letting the ATCU tear into the personal life of my… my right hand.”

May’s lips parted, the only physical evidence that his words were affecting her. The look in his eyes so solemn, so resolute, it was very nearly breaking her heart.

“This is what’s important.” Phil nodded, more to himself than her, “Whatever happens, I’m going to take care of us.”

A small tremor shifted a point deep inside her chest as he repeated back to her a promise she’d once made him. May had always been the silent type, but this time it wasn’t a choice, she was lost for words. So she found one. A simple one, “Good.”

 

 

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